So this is like 23 hours late and my last blog was an Idol-related post. I need to get my sh*t together and share more meaningless thoughts. Until then … THIS. Is American Idol.

Man, remember when Usher was a flaming a’hole on Punk’d and essentially sold his pre-adolescent brother/legal ward down the river? NEITHER DOES USHER. He’s smooth over everything tonight, though, and Ryan is delightfully dapper in sunglasses and cracking jokes here and there. Maybe the whole Ricky Martin thing has him manic. This is American Idol. Randy is wearing some sort of argyle Garanimal. And I yawn.

Sioban Magnus – “Through the Fire,” OPB Chaka Khan. “I’ve loved you since age 6!” Way to make Usher feel utterly irrelevant at age 30. Her outfit is laughable, all tube socks and fake Chucks mixed with an assymetrical evening goan and a faux-Princess-Leia hairdo. Hideous monster. Her voice, all runs and squeaks and breathy disaster, isn’t much better. Her crutch of screeching has grown old (Simon agrees with me) and her pitch is way off tonight. Luckily, she’s in the first spot so maybe people won’t remember this performance, per se, they’ll just remember liking her.

Casey James – “Hold On, I’m Coming,” OPB Sam and Dave. That’s what she said. Typical Casey. Safe but rugged vocals, capable gui-tar strumming, a bit more of a robotic smile than usual. I do like his tone, though, and Lord knows the show needs some rock to carry us through the next few weeks when Aaron and/or Katie are still with us.

“Big” Michael Lynche – “Ready for Love,” OPB India.Arie. Big Mike’s the first of the Top-12 to assume the creepy halo glow, but he’s set up behind the judges quite arbitrarily. Too much vibrato, as I always say. Just SING! I can barely tell where the notes are supposed to go. His voice is certainly strong and pretty, but there is too much flourish. Toward the end, where he pushes into his chest voice a bit more, I’m slightly more entertained, though I wish he’d pick something more up-tempo for a change.

Didi Benami – “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted,” OPB Jimmy Ruffin (thank you, Wiki, I only know the Paul Young version) . Oh, Didi. The crying is not becoming and Usher could not care less about your mental frailty. She looks lovely – the makeup, the dress, the hair. And her voice is strong and pure until about halfway through, when she tries to Siobhan things up a bit and “pushes” (tm Ellen) a little too hard. Decent song choice, decent performance, if a tad old-fashioned as the judges point out. Still liked her Stones’ performance best of all.

Tim Urban – “Sweet Love,” OPB Anita Baker and detested by Lucy for about 20 years. Ummm. BLINK, Tim. You look like Clay Aiken or Zac Effron. His vocal doesn’t sound terrible in the chorus – strong and rich – but the low-register notes in the verses are a slight challenge. I hate this song like poison, it reminds me of depressing Sunday nights in 7th grade when I dreaded band the next day, and Tim is certainly not the best singer here, but I don’t have a problem with this performance as a demonstration of vocal ability. Good range, controlled tone. Just get the eye-f*cking under CONTROL, man! Randy? Shut your Garanimal-hole.

Andrew Garcia – “Forever,” OPB Chris Brown. Hmmm. Suspect song choice on a family show, for God’s sake. But at least Andy’s back with the acoustic guitar and not dancing around like an awkward gigilo. I’m sort of bored – is it possible his voice isn’t really that good, it just sort of has that contemporary vibe and he highlights it with unusual song choices? I think that is, in fact, probable. He hits wrong notes all over the place in his low register and doesn’t demonstrate much range overall. But I do agree with Randy that it’s the best in a while, because he seemed comfortable for once.

Katie Stevens – “Chain of Fools,” OPB Aretha Franklin. Wow! What an original choice! I’ve only heard this like 90,000 times in the last eight seasons of Idol. Haaaate. She’s gone from virgin to Madonna (circa 1984) and looks not unlike myself at age 8 dressed up in my Mom’s cast-off nightgowns and costume jewelry. Her voice is a bit shrill and all up in her throat, Shakira style. She’s trying to walk the stage with confidence, but looks a tad foolish, “If I’m being honest” (tm Simon). I mean … better than I would be at age 17 in front of millions of folks, but ugh. So tired of the baby munchkins.

Lee Dewyze – “Treat Her Like a Lady,” OPB The Temptations. Usher :hearts: Lee! I still don’t forgive you for Punk’d, RAYMOND. Dave Matthews-esque vocals morph into strong, powerful, rock vocals akin to a DAUGHTRY or a COOK. Ladies Love Cool Lee, keep it up. This was your moment. Just stellar. Love Simon and your drama.

Crystal Bowersox – “Midnight Train to Georgia,” OPB Gladys Knight and the Pips. Crystal on piano – the big “surprise” of the night. Simple, soulful, and using the back-up singers to the best of their ability at first. And like so many of Crystal’s show-stoppers, she swells at the end, shows off her big vocals, and wows everyone. It wasn’t her best performance of the season, but it was, as usual, one of the best two of the night.

Aaron Kelly – “Ain’t No Sunshine,” OPB Bill Withers. What is going on with the Danny Zuko hair. For as many times as this child has gotten his hair cut, you’d have thought someone would suggest an eyebrow trim. He’s not murdering the song – all the notes are right, basically – but there is no SOUL here. Has he ever faced a lack of sunshine in the absence of anyone? Zoink.

Didi may be in trouble, but will The Powers That Be let another girl go home? If rigged, which it certainly is, then maybe … I just don’t know. Andrew? Baby Tim?

Miley Cyrus as a mentor. A MENTOR (or a men-tar[d]), as she says). I’m sure Andrew and Big Mike and Crystal will take very kindly to being “taught” by a 17-year-old. Fantastic. THIS. Is American Idol.

Lee Dewyze – “The Letter,” OPB The Box-Tops and popularized by Joe Cocker. Damn. My favorite guy in the death-knell number-one spot. Miley is giving him the eye-f*ck up and down and says what I’ve been saying for week – great voice, sub-par stage presence. And AK points out to me that Miley is in hot pants while Lee is wearing a hoodie and leather jacket – who’s wrong here? He’s trying to Hicks it up a bit, strolling suavely up and down the damn place in a pseudo-suit though is clearly more comfortable rocking a Cars tee shirt and holding a six-string. The vocals are smokey and strong, with fewer pitch problems than usual. Judges are split, Simon repeats his new mantra (“Have a moment [like this]!”). Lee’s still getting my vote.

Paige Miles – “Against All Odds,” OPB Phil Collins. Oh, dear. This never ends well for people. Ugh. Are these actual notes she’s singing? It just sounds like breath pushed through a cracked wooden pan flute. When she gets into her chest voice, she hits a couple – literally, a couple – of fine-sounding notes. But all in all, an UTTER mess. Judges agree that she was horrendous; will she get sympathy votes? It’s a distinct possibility, because they ripped her absolutely to sheds. Not undeservingly.

Tim Urban – “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” OPB Queen. What can one say. It’s Tim. He’s cute as a button, has a smooth tone, and is perfectly likable in his nautically-themed outfit. The pitch seemed fine, but there wasn’t a whole lot of “oomph.”

Aaron Kelly – “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing,” OPB Aerosmith and ruined by Mark Chestnutt. NERD. Ahem. I saw this song coming up the street in a cab. I think he started too soon (that’s what she said) – but if so, the band caught up post haste. So while Aaron is wee, and annoying, and nearly everything that is wrong with music and America in general, his voice isn’t super terrible (especially given the laryngitis). And the ladies love him, because the ladies are idiots. Whatever.

Crystal Bowersox – “Me and Bobby McGee,” written by Kris Kristofferson, performed by Gordon Lightfoot and made famous by Janis Joplin. Predictable song choice, but absolutely spot-on beautiful. The beginning is quiet and angelic, the end is powerful and literally gives me chills. She’s one of the best contestants on this damn show, ever. Done and done.

“Big” Michael Lynche – “When a Man Loves a Woman,” OPB Percy Sledge. Again with the predictable song choice. My typical problem with Big Mike is overload on the vibrato, and runs all over the place, and that’s true this time around once again. His tone is pleasing as always, however, and he commands the stage like the giant he is. I’m not sure … he’s talented, and seems like a nice guy (did you know he’s a new father?) but something about him is not quite doing it for me.

Andrew Garcia – “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” OPB Marvin Gaye but also performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival. Were they given a list of 25 songs from which to choose? Same shit, different season. In the words of my 24-year-old buddy at work, Andrew is “Supes Totes Awks” without his guitar. The boy pointed to his eye when he said “tears,” people. To his ear when he said “heard.” My f*cking God. There is something about his voice I still like, but the kid is out of his element something fierce. He is off the rails and not long for this world. So sad!

Katie Stevens – “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” OPB Fergie. Well, at least someone is doing something released in the last 25 years. And her hair is so shiny! She sounds fine, sometimes, but also like every young girl who’s been on this show for nine seasons from Carmen Rasmusan to Mikaleh Gordon and everyone ever since. GUTTURAL TONES take over as the song wraps up. And she’s wearing stupid neon suspenders and a peace sign tee shirt (“PEACE RULZ, y’all!”) Ugh.

Casey James – “The Power of Love,” OPB Huey Lewis and the News, and arguably the best song EVER!? I like his rockin’ version; it is making me smile, as does the staccato horn section. Again, his performance was great, his voice was fine, but not showcased as brilliant. One of my favorites of the night.

Didi Benami – “You’re No Good,” OPB Linda Ronstadt. Not sure what is going on … she’s a little uncomfortable and a little off-key at the beginning but pulls it together, a bit, toward the end. Why is everyone singing these hacky, ancient songs? Again, I wonder who her fan base could be.

Sioban Magnus – “Superstition,” OPB Stevie Wonder. YAWN. What list were these kids given? Only Casey picked something not Idol-esque. Blah, blah, blah. Strong vocals, weird, screech. Side note: all these girls were stuck on a treadmill and are dropping pounds. Please, what is the Idol diet?

I’m just not that excited this season. Except by Crystal. And I still like Lee as well.

I had a good thing going for about 20 years. From 1982 until 2002, my finger was firmly on the pulse – the PULSE! – of pop music. From avid New Wave fan (in elementary school) to teeny-bopper obsessed with pop, Open House Party, and everything on Casey’s countdown (junior high, early high school) to an early adopter of Nirvana (late high school), to a DJ and music director at my college radio station, to an all-around fan of staying current, from the Backstreet Boys to the Butthole Surfers. And now? I know noth-ing.

At work today, on my streaming Slacker.com, I listened to a station called “Indie Hits.” Oh, the dozens of bands with clever names I’d never heard of. Even the bands I thought I sort of “knew,” such as Of Montreal or And You Shall Know Us By the Trail of the Dead (really? seems so cumbersome) would begin to play and I didn’t recognize the song. Okay, fine, you say, that’s what “indie” rock is all about, and after all I am listening to this station to spread my horizons.

So I come home, plop on the couch with a box of Triscuits, and dig into the latest Rolling Stone – Jimi Hendrix on cover … I think I may have heard of him. Flip to the back page, and lo and behold, my favorite feature – From the Vault – the cover and the top hits of many years ago (in this case, 10 years). And I could hum any of them to you right NOW. Destiny’s Child’s “Say My Name.” CELINE’s “That’s the Way It Is.” Sisqo’s “Thong Song.” Hey – they may not be good, they may not be classics, but they are firmly in my memory. On the March 30th, 2000 RS cover? Why, the lovely boys of NSYNC.

I peek above to the current top-10. I know … four of them and haven’t even heard of all the artists. And three of the four songs with which I’m familiar are simply f*cking sh*t-yourself awful. Justin Bieber dominates Twitter every damn hour of every damn day and OK Go has only sold 25K of its latest album. People are putting punctuation marks in their names, and not in the cool way that Wham! did. I furrow my brow.

Am I ignorant, or just curmudgeonly? Or maybe the descent into apathy began when I stopped driving everywhere and began devoting the majority of my headphone time to Stern instead of Seacrest. Perhaps we are all just overstimulated with CHOICES now … Internet radio, satellite radio, build-our-own channels, NPR, iTunes single of the week … Or perhaps music today, at least the “popular” tracks, aren’t worth knowing. Will Jason Derulo’s “In My Heart” have the staying power of “All Right Now” or even “One Thing Leads to Another” or even “Damn, I Wish I Was [sic] Your Lover?” Is music really this bad, or am I just this old? Can we ever hope that one artist can swoop in and radically change the landscape so much that a new renaissance is born (thank you, Kurt, and R.I.P. always)? Or must we choose one of two paths … the Pitchfork-loving, obscure-act-seeking, blog-cruising fan of “alternative”rock, or the Top-40 statistician? I remember when it was possible to be both.

I have two friends at work … well, actually, I have lots of friends at work (shockingly!) but let’s talk about two in particular. One is technically an intern (as she’s still in college), though she is as integral to the team as anyone else. She’s 13 years younger than me, but we fraternize frequently – happy hours, lunches, what have you. The other is a great mentor and fellow writer – he’s 10 years older than me. We still occasionally see each other socially, for team events. And he’s a hip dude, always learning about new music, new trends, etc. The guy’s on Twitter, after all.

So short story long, one is 13 years my junior, one is 10 years my senior. And yet … I feel I assimilate much more with the youngster. Is it because we are both girls/women? Is it because my elder has kids and a life in the suburbs as opposed to a strings-free life in the city? Is it because I don’t act my age and am a constant embarrassment to all those around me?

How old would you say you are if you didn’t know how old you were, they say? And I think I would honestly say about 8 years younger than I am. Unless I’m trying to run a mile, in which case … 79.

On a rare weekend with little to do, Mr. Glib and I watched a couple of movies, and then I watched a couple on my own. Two new-ish ones (Precious-based-on-the-novel-Push-by-Sapphire and Bottle Shock) and two old-ish “horror” “classics” – Gremlins and Evil Dead II.

Check out NineWordsorLess.com for my succinct reviews. But may I just say that Feldman was adorable in Gremlins, and it was probably the Michael-Jackson mimicry that did him in forever. And until a few hours ago, I stupidly had no idea Spielberg or Judge Reinhold was involved.

As for Evil Dead, with 98% on Rotten Tomatoes, with the unyielding devotion of Rob and Barry (John Cusack and Jack Black, respectively) in High Fidelity, with a 7.8 on IMBD … I thought it was pretty much horrificly bad. And not in a good, Grindhouse sort of way. Like … it was monotonous and annoying to watch, until possibly the final two-minute “twist.” But at least that one’s out of the way. Have I seen too many 28 Days Laters and Dawn of the Deads that I don’t appreciate the early genius? Or am I just not in the right mood to take it all in?

Just read a Facebook-status stream that quoted the following: Justin Timberlake’s “What Comes Around, Goes Around,” (Leave Britney ALONE!); Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record),” (Excellent use of the song-title parenthetical); and RATT’s “Round and Round,” (owing its recent resurgence to The Wrestler, or possibly Richard Christy‘s”Round Brown Mounds” song parody). And it got me thinking about another song of that ilk, “Round and Round” by Tevin Campbell (a wee R&B singer I have now referenced twice in this young blog). Don’t know it? Yes you do (if you are 30 or older):

“Nothin’ comes from talkers but the sound …
We can talk all we want to,
but the world still goes around and round …
Round and rou-ound
We go round and round and round
And what we’re lookin’ for still isn’t found”

Okay, so … whatever. This whole divergence from my planned Saturday reminded me of one of the strangest karaoke “performances” I’ve ever seen. Possibly even stranger than the skinny limited-teeth yokel (you know the one) singing some Biggie Smalls song and screaming the N-word repeatedly, while always backing it up with – “Ha ha! It’s in the song! I can say it!” – while in the atrium of a converted RAX.

Picture an enormous country/rock and roll dive in Cincinnati, circa 1999/2000. Popular for Friday night post-softball karaoke. I daresay I have spent literal months in this joint – 6 to 8 hours, every Friday night, for 3 or 4 years. The patrons and singers like them some Tim McGraw. Some Johnny Cougar. Some Jonny Bon Jovi. Some Jani Lane. The occasional “Bust a Move” or “Baby Got Back” from a couple of white chicks. Fair share of country-fried rock. “Rocky Top.” I think you get the picture.

So this 20-something girl, white sweater and jeans, goes to the stage. Out starts “Round and Round” by … Tevin Campbell. Even 10/11 years ago, this is one weird song choice. Wrong venue, wrong era, just wrong. The song is dead and buried, folks. And then she begins, stoney-faced, to simply read the words off the screen. “Nothing comes to dreamers but a dream … ” and so on and so forth. It’s not that she had a bad or off-key singing voice … she wasn’t even attempting to sing. I had the single tape (a/k/a/ the “cassingle”) of this tune and could barely remember how the melody went at this point. Such a travesty. Why pick a song you don’t know? Why pick a Tevin Campbell song at all?

Suddenly, a decade later, this morning … it hit me. This woman wanted RATT. Love will find a way, just give it time. I’m convinced! Right venue, right demographic, right RATT. Confronted with clearly the wrong song, she suffered through rather than appeal to the KJ (karaoke jockey). This poor girl is/was less confrontational than I am. I will take 90% of a bad meal home in a doggie bag rather than tell the waitress it was sub-par, but if I wanted to sing “The Power of Love” (Huey Lewis) and heard the maudlin strains of “The Power of Love” (CELINE) starting, I would sure as hell not throw myself on the sword. I mean, lady, what’s worse? A moment of irritation at the hands of the KJ, or four minutes of quizzical pondering from the audience? Or in my case, four minutes and ten or so years.

What goes around, goes around, goes around, comes all the way back around.

Have we all recovered from the loss of Alex Lambert or Lilly Scott? Didn’t think so. But while the “right” person doesn’t always win (sorry, Taylor Hicks, love ya, but … no), the Top 12 isn’t always the most talented dozen. Without further ado.

It’s Rolling Stones night, and rock-and-roll purists of the world grow one step closer to throwing themselves collectively off a bridge. Bring in Bruce as a mentor, and it’s all over.

“Big” Michael Lynche – “Miss You.” Wow, I’d totally forgotten Mike had a baby. Don’t like the chain wallet, dude. I also don’t like this arrangement, but he sounds fine and swaggers with just the right amount of confidence. A little too much vibrato and falsetto for this song. The meat of the song is totally ripped out, and it’s just a showcase for runs and glory notes. But he’s probably fine, even though stuck early in the night.

Didi Benami – “Play With Fire.” Her family gives me the creeps. Great voice, control of the dynamics, and great stage presence. Unlike most of these fools, it looks as though she is truly feeling the mood of the song (though I don’t buy her as a dangerous type). “Couple of pitch problems,” but she sticks the landing when it counts. And unlike Big Mike, who sang, like none of his song, Didi sings like the entire song. She’s talented and “commercial,” but what demographic is voting for her? She’s not a “rocker” or a kid or a diva … she’s just … simply good.

Casey James – “It’s All Over Now.” Total pie-face in the interview. So the deal with Casey is that he is a hotter Bo Bice. Bo Bice, shockingly, came in second only to Carrie Underwood that year. And Casey’s whole package (looks, guitar playing, hair, and yes … I said “package”) is better than just his voice on a platter. That said, his voice is raw and pleasing to the ear, and I think he’s actually better than he thinks he is. But I’ve yet to be blown away by any of his singing specifically.

Shut up, Randy. Shut up, shut up, shut UP!

Lacey Brown – “Ruby Tuesday.” I can’t make up my mind on this one. I appreciate how she “makes things her own.” Two weeks ago, she took one of my least favorite songs ever (“Kiss Me” by Sixpence) and tweaked it ever-so-slightly so that I liked it better. She does the same thing here, double-timing the “still I’m gonna miss you” lyric (and changing the last note). Her tone is pretty, part syrup, part gin, but she doesn’t seem to have as much control as she should, especially when in her lower register. Last note was rough. So obviously … she’s never gonna win, but she’s certainly better than I am. Love her hair, confused by her outfit. As one friend pointed out, it looks like she has Spanx peeking out from under her skirt.

Admission of guilt: I just last week watched Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. I have no earthly idea why I didn’t watch this previously. Conceived and produced during the 2007/2008 writers’ strike, this combines three of my favorite things: the acting (and singing!) of Neil Patrick Harris, the arrogant mugging (and singing!) of Nathan Fillion, and the quirky storytelling of Joss Whedon. Throw, say, Tony Hale into the mix, and it would be a near-perfect custom blend of my own definition of awesome.

And I thought … it was weird. Miraculously, I was spoiler-free heading into the 42-minute adventure, but it was not exactly what I was expecting. I mean, a title like Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog leaves open endless possibilities, but what I envisioned in my head did not play out on the screen. I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t the side-splitting hilarity that I expected. Which I guess I should expect from the guy who scribed seven seasons of BtVS.

Speaking of Whedon – and of NPH – they are teaming up again when Joss directs an episode of Glee. Talk about a trifecta! Something to look forward to as I slog through the last 11 episodes (or as ABC says … “Only 9 episodes left … until the last 2 episodes”) of LOST.

Happy Sunday, y’all. And in other, bittersweet news, Corey Haim’s mother has the financial assistance she needs to pay for her son’s funeral. As my dear high-school friend Rashleigh said, “The thought of a pauper’s funeral made me sick to my stomach.”

Haim frenzy continued in the office throughout Thursday, and in memoriam, a challenge that continued throughout the work day was … what true “80s heartthrobs” are left and living large? Who can a gal my age look to with a sense of peace and hope in the wake of such tragedy? Swayze. MJ. Haim. Even Andrew Koenig, while a minor player in pop culture, was a loss to all children of the 80s. Show me that smile again.

But as the afternoon wore on, we realized we needed to set boundaries, both for what constitutes modern-day “success” and what it meant to be a real “80s heartthrob.”

First, the heartthrob. This was defined as “having appeared prominently on the cover of 16, Bop, The Big Bopper, Teen Beat, Tiger Beat, Dynamite, or an equivalent. “Respectable” mags, such as Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, or People don’t count.

Second, the 80s. Said cover appearance had to happen between 1980-1989. This rules out Mark Wahlberg (who didn’t launch on the scene until 1991).

Third, the “successful.” If an actor, he must have been in the regular cast of a TV show during the last five years OR a big-screen (i.e., not straight-to-video) movie in the last three years. Yes, this seems arbitrary. It is trickier for musicians, because while they may not have released new material of late, their legacy might stand. For this, I feel I’ll know it when I see it. Example. Tommy Page and Tevin Campbell? Not so successful. Donnie Wahlberg? Arguably successful, considering he still gets acting projects AND his “band” had a sell-out tour in 2009.

So before I begin my list and my commentary on the players, my few readers out there, are there any stipulations you might suggest to separate the Neil Patrick Harris from the James Spader, the Jon Bon Jovi from the Joey Lawrence?

Larry King, ever the competent and sensitive journalist, spent 40 minutes on The Haimster last night, including time with distraught but stoic Feldman (hair: circa 1986) and Nicole Eggert. Nicole looked … unlike herself. Or unlike any human being I’ve ever seen.

This girl, once a fresh-freshed natural beauty, was the envy of most girls born between 1972 and 1979. She got to hang out with the Coreys, was engaged to Haim, spent time with Scott Baio (and, more importantly, with Willie Ames), and was ogled for years in her red lifeguard suit. What’s not to love?

That time saving lives on the beach wrecked havoc on the poor girl’s skin. Now she’s barely recognizable as herself, and indistinguishable from, say, a Real Housewife (small or large “R” and “H”), a Malibu real-estate agent, or Jenny McCarthy if she hadn’t been rescued by Jim Carrey.

It’s a sad day for children of the 80s indeed. I just need to go look at Rob Lowe and Demi Moore for a while to remember that great things are still possible.